Meant to Happen
by Chi Haku
Summary: Castiel looked out of the snow and trees, wondering how he had ended up here. -What if this were how Castiel met the Wincheter boys?- Father Figure!Castiel Wee!chesters .:Written for Xanseviera on dA:.


Meant to Happen

John Winchester stared out the dirty window of the motel, the grime covering it so much that he could barely see. The radiator was busted, and the walls were covered in peeling wallpaper dotted with flowers that were probably at some point a vibrant red. There was only one bed, and a chair in the room, no desk, TV or anything else that might be seen in a higher scale establishment.

The room was only about eight by six feet, with a bathroom not even big enough to be called a room. The shower didn't have a curtain or a tub, just a showerhead and a drain on the bathroom floor. The sink was dirty enough to wonder the last time it had even been used, and the toilet was perhaps the most disgusting thing anyone had ever seen.

But John did not care about any of this, because they wouldn't be here for long.

The only decent looking thing in the room was the single bed, which was actually a lot cleaner than one would imagine. The reason being that John had threatened the manager until he washed the bed thoroughly enough that you wouldn't get sick just by laying on it. If he had been by himself, he wouldn't have cared, but he wasn't.

On the bed were two boys, the oldest probably no older than nine, maybe eight. He had sandy brown-blond hair and lightly tanned skin, from so much exposure to the outside world. The small boy was curled around another child, this one with darker, more messy hair that fell around his paler face. This boy was probably around four or five, wrapped securely in his older brother's embrace.

These were John Winchester's children and the only ones who would be sleeping tonight, hence the single bed, cleaner than it had been in probably ten years.

John turned his head to look at his boys as the older one snuffled in his sleep, moving positions slightly, his brother moving to accommodate that subconsciously. When he was sure his sons were okay, he turned back to looking out the motel window.

It was winter in Boston, and the ice had frozen practically everything over. There was a definite snowstorm brewing on the horizon, dark clouds framing the large trees. Everything was silent in the back road motel that he had found by chance, nothing moving and nothing alive save himself and the boys.

The fact that he could feel the snow on his abdomen showed just how bad the windows were, cracked permanently at the bottom. The door was in the same way, though the lock was broken as well. That was why a shotgun was sitting not inches from John's hand on the tiny table, fully loaded and cocked, ready to shoot at any moment.

John Winchester loved his sons, and he would do anything, absolutely anything, to protect them.

*And that…* he reminded himself, picking up the shotgun and starting to polish it. *Is why I am doing this.*

---

Jimmy Novak was a good man. He was a kind, loving citizen, volunteering at shelters every chance he got, and a wonderful worker. He made an honest pay with his job and he came home to make dinner every night. He was also a faithfully religious man. Every Sunday, he went to church, and sang in the choir.

Jimmy Novak deserved a lot of things. He deserved a beautiful wife, and a gorgeous child, daughter or son, it didn't matter. Jimmy deserved to live in a nice house, with a moderately expensive car, and a high position at his job. To be honest, Jimmy Novak deserved the American Dream, the white picket fence life that all people dreamed of.

What he didn't deserve, was what he got, I am sad to say. He didn't deserve to be walking home that day, and look down at his watch for just a moment. He didn't deserve to not hear the man screaming at him to get out of the way over the honking of the horn. And he didn't deserve to get hit by that truck and lose his life.

Unfortunately, people don't always get what they deserve, and Jimmy Novak was one of the people who didn't. Of course, the thing that happen next to poor Jimmy could be argued as either something he deserved, or didn't, depending on your point of view. You see, as a devout man of god, Jimmy had caught the interest of a certain angel in need of a vessel.

---

Castiel was perfectly content to stay in heaven forever. As much as he loved humans, he had no wish to spend an extended amount of time on earth. He was totally happy with just watching the humans through the clouds, serving God in his kingdom.

As luck would have it though, God seemed to have other plans for him.

If there was one person that Castiel would never have thought to see praying, it was John Winchester. It wasn't to say the man totally disbelieved God, it was just…Well he was John Winchester.

But whatever he had prayed about, it seemed that another angel, or perhaps God Himself had spoken to Winchester senior and given him answers.

So as it were, Castiel had no idea where he was going, but he did know that it would have something to do with the Winchesters, which wasn't very helpful at all.

The Lady Winchester, John's wife, was long dead. She had been killed by a demon that Castiel was yet to know the name of. Sir Winchester had discovered the life of hunters and claimed it as his own soon after, and he was still hunting now. Castiel believed that there were also two children, though son or daughter and age were unknown to him.

Castiel sighed and stood up, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his back. It was odd to be back in a body. Not bad, but certainly odd. It was a little like waking up for the first time, after a really good sleep.

He ran his hand through his hair, looking around where he had stayed the previous night.

It was an old abandoned church, with towering statues of a majority of angels and saints, and even one of Mary. Churches made him feel safe, so he tended to stay near or in one when possible. This one in particular he liked, because of its more gothic style. But he had the strangest feeling that it would be the last one he was in for a while.

The windows were all mostly blown out and there was ivy hanging off of everything. The painting of Jesus in the front of the Chapel was faded to the point that you could hardly tell what it was. All the statues were cracking and ready to crumble, and the pews had rot on them. Oddly, there were still Bibles in most of the pew backs, untouched since who knew when.

Castiel smiled up at the statues of Mary and Michael, saying a silent prayer in his head.

He looked himself over in one of the windows that remained, fixing up the suit that had once belonged to Jimmy Novak. Straightening his tie, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He didn't know where he was supposed to be going, so he willed God or anyone else to send him along his way.

It suddenly got very cold and he reopened his eyes to see where he was.

His internal map/compass immediately stated that he was somewhere in Boston, pretty far from the last city, but within a two hour drive of the next. His exact location he didn't know, or care about, what he did care about was what was slowly forming in his mind.

Apparently, whoever had spoken to John Winchester found this a good time to inform him of exactly why he was here.

His blood went from ice cold to boiling with anger, to calm again in a matter of seconds as he went through the basic outline of the last eight to nine years. He understood the decision of the man in question and nodded, even though there was no one to nod to.

Now with a set destination in mind, Castiel started off, melting the snow in his path to make the going more easy. The cold air whipped at his face and neck, chilling him despite how hard he tried to ignore it. He may be an angel, but this body was a decidedly long term contract. He could still feel hot and cold, even if he healed from frostbite or first degree burns in under seconds.

Wafting snow from his eyes as it started to come down, Castiel made his way towards the back road motel that was clearly set in his mind's eye.

---

John ran a hand through his oldest son's hair staring down at him and his brother with loving eyes. They had both grown so much in the last year. To think, one of them was almost ten!

His eyes turned sad and the hand on his gun clenched. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to both of their temples. In his mind, he murmured that he would be back, and he would see them again, but he wasn't brave enough to say it out loud. He tousled their hair and turned away from the bed.

He grabbed the bag he had next to the table and looked around the room, making sure everything was in place. He knew someone was coming, he could feel it. They would find what he had left.

He sighed and looked back at his boys once more before turning to the door. Before he could think twice, he was outside at the truck he had had an old friend drop off an hour ago. He opened the passenger side door and threw his bag and gun in, then went around to the other side and got in. He turned the keys in the ignition, starting the truck and pulling out of the parking lot.

Three solitary tears fell from his eyes as he drove away from the motel, and his sons.

---

Castiel stared at the motel before him, checking over every detail in his brain to make sure he had gotten it right. Indeed, he had, and there was the car to prove it. On the ground, there were tire tracks, fresh, just being covered by snow. He looked out to the road they led to with a sad expression.

A man leaving his sons, even to protect them, was a sad event. He knew that John Winchester had done this for their own good, but still his heart cried out in sorrow. Castiel shook his head and looked back at where the sleek black car was parked.

It was in front of room 27, parked so that it pointed directly to that room. The brunette man took the hint and headed towards it.

The door was old and dilapidated, almost frozen over from the storm. He moved to the one window and tried to look through. The frost had covered the pane of glass, so he rubbed a circle in the ice with his sleeve. Once more he peered inside, trying to see if anyone was in the room. He glanced around, rubbing the circle a second time to refresh it.

Before his breath could fog the window a second time, he made a quick inventory of the room. A single chair and a tiny table under the window he was looking through, and a bed. His eyes snapped to the bed at the sight of two small lumps, curled up and obviously asleep. The final piece of this puzzle of a mission slid into place, and he twitched. Half of him was mortified, half of him was glowing with pride that he had been trusted with this mission.

Castiel pulled away from the window and rubbed his hands together, cupping them together and blowing warm air into them. Jimmy Novak was only around twenty-two-ish, so his hands were mostly wrinkle free and smooth, but not all that appealing blue with cold.

He moved back to the door and placed his once more cold hand around the handle. He tried to turn it, smiling wryly when he found it locked. He would have been sorely disappointed in John Winchester had he left it unlocked. Frowning, he tested the door again. No, not locked, jammed.

Castiel rolled his eyes and focused on whatever was behind the door, moving it to the side. When he heard a small dull thunk from inside, he smiled to himself again. He turned the handle, and this time it moved to the side. Pushing slightly, the door opened with a loud creak.

He grimaced at the loud sound and took a step inside the room. His nose wrinkled at the must and mold smell that greeted him, and he coughed for a second. Closing the door behind him, he looked around the room properly.

There was a streetlamp like gold light on overhead, flickering occasionally. Castiel blinked up at the dying light, sort of glad John had left it on. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something on the tiny table. He looked over, staring for a moment at the brown diary. It was clasped shut with a huge number of pages sticking out of the top, paperclips and staples visible on some of them.

Moving to the table, his ran a hand over the book. The leather cover was worn and old, John's hand practically imprinted on the front. He undid the clasp and folded over the cover, looking at the front page. Taped to it, over the blank white sheet, was an envelope. On it was written simply;

"To Whomever Came for Them"

Considering he was the only one even around at the moment, Castiel plucked the envelope from the page and sat in the room's single chair. Opening the envelope, he found a set of papers and a pair of car keys inside. He leaned back into the chair and opened the page with "Me First" written on it.

"_Dear Whoever you are,_

_I don't know when you've arrived, or how long I've been gone. I don't know if it's even the same day or month anymore. Maybe one of my sons has already read this, I don't know."_

Castiel paused and looked over at the beds. If he had to make a guess, it was the same day, most likely within the same two hours, and the boys had certainly not awoken. He went back to the letter.

"_The point is you're here reading this. There are a few things I need to tell you, because I am sure that you have questions."_

Castiel snorted. No shit he had questions.

"_First of all, I think an explanation is in order. You're probably wondering why a man would just up and leave his two sons with seemingly no reason, in the middle of nowhere-Boston in a motel. That's a good thing to wonder, and even as I'm writing this, I'm wondering what in the name of God I'm doing myself. But I digress._

_If you were told anything at all about me or my life by whoever sent you, then you know what happened to my wife. You probably also know what is coursing through my youngest son's veins, as you read this, now that I think about it. Momentarily off subject, should you find a cure for it, please, do what you can. Once more, I digress._

_The demon who has ruined the futures of both myself and my sons is one who I do not yet know the name of. I do however know him as the "Yellow-Eyed Demon". I have yet to hear of another demon at all like him, nor with that feature. This tells me that this something that pertains to him and him alone, something I am grateful for, lest I would search through demon after demon for the rest of my life. _

_As it were, I might end up doing just that anyway. _

_You see, I am getting more reports, more information on him. He's appearing more, all over the country, sometimes out of it. Because of this, I feel I must take further steps to take this creature of evil out of the picture. For I know he is not the worst of his kind, but he is certainly one of them._

_As I was making a list of places where to find him, I realized just what I was doing. The places I planned on going were not only dangerous as places alone, but full of god knows what. More than that, I plan to move at a rate that two men together could PERHAPS manage. But certainly not a man with two sons, like myself._

_I think you can see where this is going._

_I realized, perhaps too late, that to bring my dear sons with me would be spelling their deaths in plain letters. _

_The sadness that overcomes me at the thought of leaving them is so great that it's hard to even write about. I do not want to leave them, but this cannot wait. I must continue my mission, for my sake as well as theirs. I wish them to grow into strong Hunters (it's too late to deter them from that), but they won't last long with me._

_And so, I leave them to you."_

Castiel had to pause. An overwhelming feeling of grief washed over him and he clenched his hands on the letter. He understood the reasoning but the angel side of him, the one that wished for everything to just work out, was furious at John for leaving his sons. When he had calmed himself down sufficiently, he went back to the letter.

"_Everything in this envelope is important. The boy's original birth certificates and other documents with their real identities on them are here. There is also a list of fake identities I have already created for them, as well as contacts of mine who know this. One in particular, Bobby, should be taken into careful consideration._

_If you're going to trust anyone while watching the boys, it would be him. He knows everything about them, and me. His address is written below."_

He scanned the address and burned it into his memory.

"_I have left my car, the Chevy Impala out front, to you and my sons. The keys are inside the envelope, don't lose them."_

Picking up the keys, he looked them over. There was one for the ignition, and a second one, probably for the trunk. He frowned. Now why would there be a separate key for the trunk?

"_As you have probably noticed, there are two keys. The second is for the trunk of the car. The trunk is where all of our weapons are kept. Should someone find the car, and not have the key, a bomb I rigged would go off and blow the whole thing to pieces, so don't lose that key either."_

Castiel raised an eyebrow. A bomb? Good to know.

"_Lastly, I don't expect to have to tell you to burn this letter when you are through with it. Should one of the Winchester's enemies read it, they would get a bucket load of information, just from this. _

_I thank you, and bid you goodbye. Please tell my sons I love them._

_John Winchester"_

Castiel dropped the letter onto the table and leaned back in the chair, rubbing his hands over his eyes. How was it that he ALWAYS managed to get caught up in things like this? Was it some kind of curse or something?

*I'm an angel.* he reminded himself. *I can't be cursed.*

Shaking his head, he picked up the letter and reread it. It never mentioned the names or ages or the two boys in the bed, so he supposed he'd have to learn that from them. For that matter, it didn't say if they knew their father was going to be gone either.

*Well that would be wonderful. Waking up to a random man you've never met in your hotel room, claiming to be an angel. Yeah, don't think that one will fly too far.*

He decided, on split second impulse, what to do next, and slowly put the letter down. He stood up and walked the two feet it took to get to the bed, looking down at the sleeping figures.

The boys looked like John Winchester's sons at the least, and there was nothing about them that was inhuman (save the demon blood in the younger, but that could be dealt with later). He ran a hand through his hair, feeling like a kind of weight had been lifted off him.

Angels had a way of KNOWING things, without even realizing it. And right now that "knowing" ability was telling him that even if this had not transpired, he would have met and helped the Winchesters one day. Even against his will.

For the first time n a long time, Castiel actually smiled. Truly smiled, eyes shining and everything.

*Now or never.* he thought.

Leaning down, he gently shook the shoulder of the older boy, murmuring "Hey, wake up!" in a soft voice. The boy groaned, but turned onto his back to look at him, rubbing his eyes.

When he noticed, it wasn't his father, he stared for a minute, then slowly sat up.

"Hey, I'm sorry to wake you." Castiel murmured, quiet enough to keep the other boy sleeping.

The boy shook his head.

"Are you the friend Dad was sending?"

The angel looked a little perplexed.

"What do you mean?"

"Dad said he'd be gone for a long time, and someone was coming to take care of us." the boy mumbled, toying with the sheets.

Castiel smiled.

"Yeah, that's me. Unfortunately, John had the courtesy to tell me nothing about you." the boy smiled slightly. "So, tell me, what's your name?"

"I'm Dean." he said. "'m nine. And this is Sammy." he pointed to his brother. "But call him Sam because he barely lets me call him Sammy. He's five."

The boy in question snuffled and opened his eyes.

"You say sumthin De…?"

When he noticed Castiel, he shot into a sitting position and hi behind his brother. Dean laughed and ruffled his brother's hair over his shoulder.

"Sammy's pretty shy."

"It's Sam!"

Dean looked back at Castiel.

"So now you know our names. What's your name?"

"Me? I'm Castiel."

"Castiel? What kind of name is that?"

"One that probably made sense to whoever named me." he shrugged.

"Okay, how old are you Castiel?"

Castiel blinked and actually tried to think about it for a second.

"Uh…Well that's a good question."

Sam crinkled his nose.

"How can you not know how old you are!"

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck.

"I've been around a long time. Long enough to have forgotten how old I was."

"You don't look much older than maybe 20. Daddy looks older than you."

Chuckling, Castiel sat on the edge of the bed.

"That's just the vessel I'm in. I'm actually almost as old as this planet."

"What!" yelped Dean. "How can you be THAT old?!"

The older male grinned.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"We believe a lot of things."

"Touché." smiling slightly, he said; "Alright, don't blame me if you think I'm lying. I'm an angel. Your father prayed for someone to come and protect and take care of you, so here I am."

Sam blinked.

"So you're kind of our guardian angel?"

"Well…Yeah, I guess so."

Sam and Dean shared a smile.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

They nodded.

"Wow. Good coping skills for a pair of kids under thirteen."

Sam giggled and Dean just grinned.

---

The morning sun shone through the ratty curtains, but no one was paying attention to that.

Dean was helping Sam wash his hair, and Castiel was packing up their things. The night before he had burned the letter from their father and pocketed the diary and envelope. The keys to the Impala were in his pocket, and he was alert. As of now, the boys were his responsibility.

Double checking the room, he turned to see Dean and Sam emerge from the bathroom.

"All set?" he asked.

The two boys nodded.

"Okay then, let's get going."

He threw a messenger bag over his shoulder, one that John seemed to have left for him, and handed the boy's their backpacks. He waited for them to swing the straps over their small shoulders, before checking everything over again.

*Look at me.* he thought with a mental chuckle. *Already a mother hen.*

He opened the door to the motel, glad to be leaving. The Boston sun was hidden by an array of clouds, casting an eerily bright light down on them.

He leaned down and picked up Sam, holding him close with one arm. The small boy nuzzled against his shoulder, obviously still tired. He held out a hand to the other boy, who took it hesitantly.

Castiel looked out of the snow and trees, wondering how he had ended up here. There was a soft squeeze of his hand and he looked down at Dean again. When he caught the gaze of the green flecked hazel eyes he smiled.

"Don't worry." he said. "I'll take care of you two."

Dean smiled and squeezed his hand again.

Castiel turned back to the Impala and started towards it, not caring that he was leaving the chances of ever just going back to heaven behind, because he liked this future better anyway.


End file.
